


Losing Your Memory

by wordswithdragons



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithdragons/pseuds/wordswithdragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of episode 10. Shiro and Allura are both taken prisoner by the Galra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this is the prologue, written in present tense. the rest of the fic will be written in past tense. rated T for violence/torture/mentions of torture, as i'm not sure how graphic things will get. also possibly eventual sexual situations idk.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy!

 

"I am _not_ leaving you!"

"You have to!"

Shiro ducks out of Allura's grab, his galra arm glowing as he helps her seal the door. The guards are straining against Allura's strength, if he can just move faster they can both get out of here. As he rises from a crouch to his feet, her body framing his, the melted metal wielded together finally making a difference, Allura successfully wraps her fingers around his arm, hoists him over her shoulder, and throws him like a ragdoll. He hits the closing doors of the escape pod with a painful crunch, and then crumbles to the floor, but quickly forces himself to his knees.

Allura's eyes are flashing as he staggers back over to her. "Shiro, you don't understand what you've done! Now the paladins can't form Voltron and―"

"I know," he wheezes, and her eyes soften. She lets the severity of the situation slip away for a moment, and worries about something other than the Galra on the other side of the door.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asks.

He curls an arm around his side for a moment, assessing the possible damage. "I'm tougher than I look, princess." He moves forward to the door, his hand glowing as he works his way further up the small opening, determined to finish the job and buy them just a little more time. Once he's done, he steps back and glances at her. The escape pod is gone, and so is their means of escaping, but he's not going to go down without a fight.

"Maybe I could use my arm to go through one of the walls," he says hurriedly. "Get to another chamber with an escape pod."

"Shiro." Allura grabs his arm again. "The walls are too thick; you need to conserve your energy―"

"I need to get us out of here," he says, but then his attention leaves her worried face and goes to the door. There's the sound of metal scraping against metal: the galra guards are beginning to break down their makeshift barrier. He shakes his head, still wanting to go to the wall, to start trying to carve a path to freedom, because he can't be captured again _not again_ ―but Allura's firm grip on his arm grounds him, the warmth of her hand even through her gloves and his armour.

Her fingers slide down to his wrist and then his hand, gripping it tightly. He doesn't know if he wishes he was alone or not, because as scary as it would be to be by himself, at least she would safe.

"We're staying together." His voice drops to a whisper. "They're not separating us." Which may not be true, he knows. He and Pidge's family, the Holts, had been separated fairly quickly. Most of the time he had been kept in isolated cells, except when he had gone to one of the secondary, much more crowded prisoners, two to a cell. After earning a reputation as the Champion, he had been left alone again. The details of day-to-day life is blurry at best, and he can already feel a headache building, so he simply squeezes Allura's hand.

He wonders what's going through her mind, thoughtfulness whirring behind her deep blue eyes, her brow slightly furrowed. She slowly lets go of his hand, curling her fingers into fists, and he falls back into a defensive stance, his galra arm humming with faint energy, emitting a dim purple glow, remembering her advice of not wasting his strength.

The doors are already beginning to creak open, the sealed metal beginning to crack apart, small shards of it littering the floor as the galra begin to fight their way in.

Allura glances at him, and he finds an odd comfort in it. "I am not leaving you," she whispers.

It's a promise they're willing to bet their lives on.


	2. The Cell

His body was already aching before it was tossed into the cell, never mind when it banged against the cool metal floor before doing a half-roll across the length of the it, accenting all the bruised stretches of his skin. Shiro resisted the urge to curl into a tight ball, because acting like a child wouldn't do any good, and he knew first-hand that the Galra didn't show any mercy to children. (Pidge's brother, Matt Holt, had barely been of age when they dragged him away from the gladiator ring. Shiro had never seen him again).

Allura let out an  _oomph_  when she landed beside him. He watched her head smack against the wall of their cell through blurry eyes, and her faint whimper of pain echoed in the tiny space. Ignoring the aching of his body, Shiro edged closer to her, putting most of his weight on his metal arm, the one part of his body that didn't actually hurt. He had never been grateful for his prosthetic before. The black paladin slumped against the wall in what could almost pass for a sitting position once he had reached her, before gently tugging the princess into his lap. He cradled her head in his hands, lightly combing through her thick hair, parting strands for signs of injury or any kind of bleeding. After a thorough search, Shiro concluded that the blow would leave bruising and a headache at the most, thankfully.

"Allura." His voice was a quiet rasp. Literally fighting for his life―because no matter the situation, he and Allura weren't going to go down without a fight―with nothing to drink afterwards wasn't a good combination. Still, it was the least of his worries.

"S-Shiro," she replied weakly. With a wheezing breath―she was badly injured too, probably more so due to their ultimately futile fight―she forced herself up from a lying position, still leaning heavily on him. He didn't mind. "Do you think the other paladins have left?"

"Hopefully." As much as it hurt to know they had been abandoned, that they were truly on their own in a Galra ship heading straight for Zarkon, he knew it was probably better for the greater good of the galaxy. For the safety of their friends. Shiro pushed those thoughts away. "How are your injuries?" he asked instead. He couldn't quite bring himself to remove his hands from her hair, noticing a few loose strands have broken free of her bun. He had the strangest urge to tuck them behind her ears, but refrained.

"Only bruises, I believe." Allura winced as she tried to draw her leg in closer to her body. "I'm assuming you're the same?"

"Just about." He took his hands away from her hair, holding out his Galra arm and trying to activate it. It weakly sputtered a purple glow. Over time, he had learned that it would work like a regular arm just fine, but when it came to using it as a weapon, it needed to recharge just like any other piece of technology, especially when it had been used repeatedly in a short time span. The actual arm's energy was somehow tied to his lifeforce, so it would naturally recharge while he slept or rested. Pidge had explained it once, but Shiro had only listened to the bare minimum; he didn't want to know anything more about his strange knew arm than he had to.

"Shiro." Allura drew his name out. It sounded empty in their cell, bouncing off the walls, and slightly scared. He was grateful that at least for now, the Galra had kept them together. Her head was a warm, pleasant weight on his chest, and he wondered if Allura could hear his heartbeat, which was growing gradually slower as the adrenaline from their battle faded. "What are they going to do to us?"

He supposed between the two of them, he was the expert on Galra prisons. He collected his breath, pushing out a shuddering sigh.

"I expect Zarkon will want to see us. I think I met him before..." His memory was hazy at best, and he was too tired to strain his mind for memories that were hardly ever there. "He has a witch servant of some kind." His metal fingers curled into a fist, and he missed the feeling of nails digging into the sensitive skin of his palm. "There are others like her. We might get moved to another prison, if we're not considered important enough. They shouldn't―" A lump formed in his throat at the thought. "They shouldn't torture us."

Allura trailed her hand along his prosthetic, and it would never cease to amaze him how she touched it without a sliver of fear. Beyond that, he was glad she had shifted back into her usual form, of her height just a little under his, and her warm brown skin. She seemed more human than when she was disguised; more reachable. She knew he had nightmares about his time in prison, about losing his arm. He was just glad she didn't know some of his nightmares had started to include losing her.

Her hand lingered in the bend of his metal fingers, before she finally took her hand away. "I'm not going to let them hurt you again, Shiro."

He wanted to smile for her, but couldn't quite manage it. "That's not a promise you can keep, but I appreciate the sentiment, princess." He turned his head, and his chin brushed the side of hers, resting in her hair. "We should try to rest. They'll have to wait to tell Zarkon, and we won't be at his ship for a few hours at least. Maybe half a day. It's good to keep track of time."

He remembered how fast time had slipped through his fingers, like sand, until days and weeks had blurred together, forming a jumbled mess. Although, that may have been a side affect of his amnesia more than anything else, messing with his head.

"How did you escape the first time?" she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"It's all still a blur." He let out a huff of frustration, wishing he could be more useful―that his brain could do its damn job for once. "I figured out the timing of the guards, and used that to somehow managed to get out of my cell. I stole a ship, and then I crash landed on Earth, and well, you know the rest. The prison was I taken to crashed on Arus shortly after we found Voltron, though, so the prison we'll be sent to might be different. Neither of us could be considered weak enough to be sent to a work prison... like Pidge's father and brother. I think―they should keep us together."

He tried to not think about why. If he was more naive, maybe he could have hoped it was out of the goodness of their hearts, but he knew that Galra didn't have hearts to begin with. No, if he and Allura were kept together during their imprisonment, for however long they were together, for however long they were captured, it was a calculated move. One with surely deadly consequences.

"Allura," he began, forcing his voice to sound steady. "They're going to ask us where the Lions and the castle are. When they do, I'm going to tell them that the other paladins and I decided on a safehouse location, in case something ever went wrong." And this was about as wrong as it could get. "Unbeknownst to you and Coran, for safety purposes. It's a lie, of course, but...it should keep you from being interrogated too harshly."

Allura frowned at him. "Shiro, I do not believe that―"

"Princess, I know what to expect from Galra prisons. I―I'm trying to protect you. Please. You're a princess, he must have known your father. I just want to save you more pain. Besides, Zarkon is sure to take a special interest in  _both_  us. He let his witch use me for her experiments, and he'll probably want to know how I escaped."

For a moment, he could see her hesitate, doubt flashing in her bright blue eyes. When his eyes caught hers, he knew what was hiding underneath.

"Allura, what aren't you telling me?"

"Do you promise not to be angered with me?" she asked meekly. Studying her intently, Shiro slowly nodded. She let out a deep breath. "Zarkon was the former paladin of the Black Lion. He still has the Lion's bayard― _your_  bayard."

Shiro was silent for a long moment. "Why didn't you tell me?" He tried, he really tried, not to sound angry, even if his tone was sharp enough to cut her deep. "That the leader of the most evil empire in the galaxy used to―and now I'm―they already tried to ruin me, what if I could be like Zarkon―"

"You're nothing like Zarkon," said Allura firmly. At his glower, she grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. "You're not, Shiro. You're goodhearted and kind and―and  _stupidly noble_ ―"

"I wasn't being noble," he retorted. She scoffed, letting go of his hand, and he pushed away the twinge of disappointment in his gut. "I was being a good teammate, a good leader. I wasn't going to leave you behind."

"You should have! Now, thanks to your sacrifice, Voltron cannot be formed―"

"Well, it's not like the Black Lion can't find a new paladin―"

"You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into! Your nightmares! Why would you put yourself through this again? We're captured, with no hope of a rescue, about to be tortured and imprisoned, when it would have been much safer, much easier, a much better decision to leave me! Your life is worth a great deal more than mine, I'm the princess of a decimated and destroyed people, you're the leader of the galaxy's only hope, you need to understand your importance―"

"You're just as much of a leader as I am," said Shiro fiercely. "And one day, you will rebuild your people and your nation. And―and besides, I-I..." He realized how close their faces were. "I will choose your life over mine whenever there is a choice to be made, and even when there isn't."

A lump formed in Allura's voice. "Well then, I suppose there's no arguing with you, is there?"

"I think I'm about as stubborn as you are."

"I am not  _stubborn_." He raised his eyebrows, and she frowned again, turning away from him and widening their proximity, a dull flush colouring her cheeks. "Never mind. This isn't what we should be focussing on. How long do you think it will be until we can make an escape attempt?"

"I'm not sure. We'll have to wait until our bodies aren't so beat up, and then for an opportunity to arise. If luck is on our side, hopefully we can escape together. If not..." He swallowed hard and stuck out his hand. "Swear to me, that if you have a chance to escape, even if that means leaving me behind, you'll take it. Promise me."

"No. We are getting out of here together or not at all."

"Princess, that's not realistic."

"Neither is the goal of defeating Zakon, yet we cannot give up hope. I am not enough of a fool to believe that it will be easy, but I am not leaving you behind. Even if I didn't have a debt to repay." Her mouth was a thin, firm line, and he saw the determination in her eyes. She wasn't going to change her mind. "I am not leaving you, because I know you would not leave me. You've proven yourself already. Now, promise me, that we will escape together." She stuck out her hand.

Shiro sighed, and reluctantly, shook her hand. "I promise."

"Good." She released his hand, seemingly satisfied, leaning against him once more. "What should we do now?"

"Rest, as much as we can."

Allura tucked her hair behind her ears, nodding slightly against his chest. "I think that is a wise decision."

They didn't speak much after that, but they also didn't sleep. They just drank in each other's warmth, and the relief that for now, they were still together. Shiro tried not to think about the way his arms were around her too much. He had to find some way to protect her. She had already lost so much to the Galra, he refused to let her lose her life or her hope.

He slowly let his eyes close.

The next time he opened them was to the creaking door of their cell being opened. An hour had passed, maybe two at most. Two Galra, dressed exactly like how Allura had been disguised, purple skin and bulky armour, were standing in the door frame. One of them marched in, and Allura immediately pulled away from him, both of them going to rise to their feet.

"What is going on?" she demanded, firm and resolute.

"Special precautions," the guard said with a devilish grin, showing off pointy, white teeth. He threw a prisoner garb at Allura, before seizing Shiro's arm and roughly pulling him to his feet. Shiro didn't both struggling, even when Allura let out a noise of protest.

He squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth as the guard scanned his arm with some Galra device, small and box-like. "Access verified, scan complete," a voice emitting from the box reported. "Registration number: #00345." The guard shoved Shiro away, pocketing the device.

"Now, you can't go using your name to get into Galra areas," he said, puffing out his chest importantly. "As for you, queenie, that will keep you from transforming. You're not our first shapeshifter, even if you're the prettiest." Allura squirmed under his gaze, tightly clutching the drab garments. The guard leered at her. "Whatcha waiting for? Put it on."

"Marxwell," the other guard said reproachfully. Another male, Shiro guessed. "She's a prisoner of Emperor Zarkon, not your plaything."

"What Emperor Zarkon doesn't know won't hurt him, Lukka," the grinning guard responded with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"No," snapped Shiro, stepping forwards. "But  _I_  will beat you to a pulp."

Lukka grabbed Marxwell's arm, and Shiro could immediately see the former held the higher rank. Some things from his Garrison days had stuck after all. "The princess can change in private, Marxwell. Remember your place." He stared at Shiro through the slits in his helmet, and he wished he would see the alien's expression underneath his mask. "That goes for both of you."

Lukka dragged Marxwell out of the cell, shutting the door after throwing another prisoner's uniform on the floor. Shiro scooped it up, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Allura, who looked both meek and affronted.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, even though he knew it didn't really make a difference.

"He's not the first to make such comments," Allura replied with a shake of her head. She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "Thank you Shiro. I do not suppose you would mind turning around while I―?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, turning towards the door. He listened to the creaking of armour as Allura took off her clunky Galra disguise, and then the soft rustling of cloth as she slowly shed her under armour she wore whenever they were in battle. Their cell had no opening, however thin and narrow, to the outside corridors, and Shiro struggled to find something else to concentrate on while Allura undressed. He heard her suit hit the floor with the quietest thump, and she was dressed in the prison garbs far more quickly.

"You can turn around now," she told him. "I am―in human terms I believe, decent?" She looked to him for confirmation she was using the word right as he turned around. Dressed in the pale purple-ish gray shirt and brown pants, she somehow still managed to look regal, a commanding presence that demanded respect. He hoped the prison wouldn't take away the way she held her head high.

Shiro nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Yeah. Uh, I'll change now?"

Her cheeks were slightly pink. Part of her felt embarrassed for even being embarrassed, under the circumstances, but she couldn't help it. Humans were very similar in appearance to Alteans, and Shiro was definitely an attractive specimen. She couldn't help but feel a little flustered, but instead she just nodded and turned around.

Stripping himself of his armour―the symbol of him as a paladin of Voltron, no longer a prisoner and a slave to the Galra, a weapon turned human rather than the other way around―proved to be harder than he had expected, due to how violently his hands are shaking. Slowly, he tugged on the prison clothes, which were the exact same for Allura's, even if they were tighter on him, especially over his broad shoulders.

Now there really was nothing to do but wait.

He wondered if the rest of Team Voltron really would try to rescue them, but no, they couldn't be that foolish. With no way to have a worm hole, with no pilot to even bring Voltron to fruition, and all the risks such a mission would entail, he hoped that common sense and Coran's authority would prevail. The older Altean alone understood what was at stake.

"We'll figure it out." Shiro tried to sound more confident than he felt, smoothing down his shirt. Hopefully whatever that device had done to his arm hadn't also taken away its ability to be a weapon, but he'd have to wait to find out.

Allura placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze and managing a tiny smile. He wondered how he could believe in them, in  _him,_  so much. "Of course we will."


	3. The Druids

The druids came for them in the dead of night.

The cell door creaked open, and Shiro tried to get the panic threatening to rise up―there was a thick bitter bile coating his throat, his tongue, but he choked it back, trying to convince his lungs they weren't going to have to struggle to work―as the cloaked figures were illuminated in the dim purple light of the ship's hallways, lurking in the doorway. He hadn't felt drowsy for hours, but now he suddenly felt exhausted and all too awake at once. Every nerve was on overload, tingling, his body remembering the pain those witches had put him though, their claws digging into his skin, and the stump that remained of his arm was burning against its metal component.

Allura grabbed at his flesh arm, her face blanching and her eyes wide, even as she swallowed the fear threatening to escape. All this time she had been somewhat terrified, but having Shiro's presence, and the knowledge she was not alone, that she had someone else to worry about, had helped her keep it at bay.

She couldn't imagine what he had gone through under the druid's hands, but she had a sinking feeling she was about to find out. She couldn't let them take him―she couldn't let Shiro go through that again.

"You will leave him alone!" she snarled, tightening her grip on his bicep, and trying to tug him behind her. She was tired, hungry, and not nearly as strong as she should have been, but she could still fight. She could still convince the druids it wasn't worth the effort.

"Princess," Shiro hissed, his breath warm and brushing the shell of her pointed ear. "Princess, don't―"

"I will not let you take him!" she announced, as the druids crept―or rather, glided into the cell. She couldn't see their feet, or their faces, only darkness under their cloaks and snatches of evil, glowing yellow eyes, and long clumps of pale purple hair. How many were there? What would they do to them?

She felt Shiro's metal hand move over the one she had on his arm, and with a sudden grab and twist, he had gotten her to loosen her grip. His hands were on either side of her face, and his forehead was warm and firm against hers, his tuft of white hair mingling with hers. "Princess, don't put up a fight," he whispered so quietly only she could hear. His voice was soft and soothing, and he was grateful it wasn't shaking. "It won't do any good."

A lump rose in her throat. "But―"

"Allura, please." His warm thumb stroked over the curve of her cheek, before coming back up to just under her eye markings. "It'll be easier for both of us this way. I'll be okay. I don't need you to protect me."

"I know," she said, an edge of frustration entering her voice, which was as quiet as his. Her heart was pounding in her throat for reasons utterly unrelated to the situation at hand, his fingers warm on her skin, and she forced down the heat rising to her cheeks. "But―" _But_ I _need to protect you._ His eyes met hers, pleading, and her voice withered. "Alright," she said reluctantly. She brought her free hand up to his face, gently touching his cheek, the tips of her fingers brushing the scar across the bridge of his nose, and trying not to imagine the new scars that would mark his handsome face when they met again.

What she did next she did without thinking: she hugged him. She had never done so before, in fact, they had never hugged. On long sleepless nights spent talking, they would sometimes squeeze each other's hands, or fall asleep with a head on each other's shoulders. He would place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and it had always been enough. Until now.

His chest was warm and solid against her chin, even if she could hear his heart beating erratically; he was as scared as she was, yet putting on a brave face. Didn't he deserve the same curtsey? She let her fingers link along the broad expanse of his back, just for a moment, before she withdrew her arms and pulled away, ignoring the hotness of her cheeks.

She willed her voice not to tremble. "I'll go first. I'll see you after the interrogation."

She walked to the door, composed, even as a group of druids gathered around her, obviously escorts, to wherever they were taking her.

Allura glanced back only once, and saw Shiro being led off in the opposite direction, as he turned his head towards hers, and their eyes met. She would never forget the terrified expression, the tight line of his mouth and the unnatural brightness of his eyes―tears―for the rest of her life.

* * *

Blood was drizzling over one eye when the druids finally led her back to the cell. Allura was surprised she could walk, her legs unsteady, and an arm cradled over her stomach, firm against her soft skin and feeling the blustering hardness of bones that were definitely bruised, if not broken. Yet she was determined not to fall; she wouldn't dare give them that satisfaction.

The druids didn't say anything as they walked along the cold corridors of the ship, and didn't even made a sound, gliding as though they were floating. She still hadn't seen any of their faces, only flashes of white, sharp teeth twisted into smiles as they made her screams echo through the interrogation room. The silence made it worse, somehow, punctuated by her laboured breathing which sounded far too loud.

She had gone along with Shiro's idea, most begrudgingly, but she wondered how much it had cost him.

She staggered into the cell the druids had taken her from, and collapsed onto her knees once the door was closed. She let out a dry heaving sob, her throat and eyes burning like the scorching deserts she had visited once on a neighbouring planet, close to Altea. She couldn't even cry, her lips swollen and cut. She knew she had more bruises littered throughout her body, hiding under the grimy prisoner robes. She lifted one hand, keeping her arm curled over her stomach, and felt the warm stickiness of the blood on her brow, swiping it away from her eyes and smearing it over her skin.

At least Alteans healed quickly, she thought, feeling a small spark of hope. If she could heal an entire Balmera planet, she could speed up her own healing process. And Shiro's too, when he came back. Because of course he was coming back. All she had to do was wait.

She dragged herself over to the wall with what little remained of her strength, and slumped against the wall, just focussing on her breathing. Her eyes were fixed on the door, willing it any moment to open and reveal her Black Paladin, hurt but alive―

Wait... _her_ Black Paladin? Where had that thought come from? Shiro was her friend, but he wasn't _hers_ , not that in that way. She shook her head. It was foolish to even be thinking of such things when they were in such a dire position. They had to focus on survival, she had to focus and keep a clear head to get them both of here, to get Shiro back to the rest of the Paladins so they could form Voltron and save the galaxy. She had no business entertaining any thoughts of courtship.

The door opened, and Shiro was roughly shoved in. Allura didn't know how she moved so fast, but she caught him in time, sagging only slightly under his weight, her legs weak. She wrapped an arm around his torso, needing to support him but not wanting to aggravate any of his injuries.

Blood was smeared over his brow, and his eyes were barely open, dazed and unfocused. Tear tracks ran down his cheeks, and his lip was bleeding. Allura didn't even want to think about what other injuries there were.

"'M sorry," he mumbled, barely audible, his eyes turning soft and taking in the sight of her injuries. "P-princess I'm sorry―"

"Shhh," she soothed. Emboldened by his dreary state, she pressed a kiss to the side of his head, her lips touching the smoothly shaven portion of his hair. She helped him onto the floor and into a sitting position as the rest of the druids left, leaving only their leader behind.

Haggar, Allura remembered the witch's name, was still in the doorway. She lifted her hood and the princess caught a look of her face: purple, like the rest of the Galra, with a red line running down one side, twitching upwards as the witch leered at them.

"Seems the princess is equally fond of you, Champion." Haggar cackled. "Although I wouldn't let your precious princess get too close―don't you know she's a murderer, boy?"

Allura's heart stopped, and she averted her gaze from Shiro, staring at the floor.

"And you're a liar," Shiro managed, glaring daggers at the witch.

Haggar bowed in a mock-respectful gesture, her hood cloaking her face in shadows once more. "Than there's no saving you, Champion, not in this mindset. You'll be ours soon enough."

Shiro slumped over once the door was shut, and there was barely any light in the cell. "Don' listen to her, princess," he mumbled. "'M fine." He tried to readjust his position, to lay a hand on her arm, and groaned, sharp stabs of pain flaring up in his torso and side. His prosthetic arm was completely limp, reduced to a heavy, useless weight.

The reminder of Shiro's pain brought Allura back to reality, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She pulled him close to her, letting her life force connect momentarily to his, and nearly passed out at the wave of agony that almost drowned her. The pain receded, and she blinked the stars out of her vision and set to work. She laid her hands over his chest, sensing the worst of the bruises and wounds and who knew what else, and her hands began to glow, much like they had with the Balmera. Both the planet and Shiro were living creatures, the latter just far smaller and far dearer to her heart.

"Of course," she assured him, her voice as gentle as her touch, firm and featherlight all at once, and she hoped, soothing, to the broken man in her arms. "You're going to be fine, Shiro."

"I'm not theirs," he said firmly. She could tell he was sliding in and out of consciousness, despite the fact his eyes remained fixed on her face.

She gently shushed him. "You're right, you're not theirs."

"I'm not theirs," he repeated, raising his head slightly to look her in the face. He weakly raised a hand and the tips of his fingers lightly touched the corner of her jaw. "I'm yours."

Allura's cheeks darkened. He was delirious with pain, she reminded herself. He didn't know what he was saying, not really. Still, the look in his half-opened eyes was tender, and she drew the oddest sense of comfort from it, before they fluttered close. His forehead met her shoulder as he fell into her arms, and she cradled him carefully.

She wasn't alone, and she could take care of him, she told herself firmly. And if his predictions were correct, they wouldn't be separated again, even if they were sent to a gladiator ring.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to tell him that what Haggar had said was true.


End file.
